


With Threads of Red I Seal Your Fate

by SilenceIsGolden15



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo 2k19 [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Autistic Keith (Voltron), Bad Things Happen Bingo, Blood, Diplomacy, False Accusations, Gen, Hurt Keith (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Missions Gone Wrong, Prompt: Whipping, Protective Lance (Voltron), Protective Pidge | Katie Holt, Protective Shiro (Voltron), Protective Team, Self-Esteem Issues, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:46:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21563203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilenceIsGolden15/pseuds/SilenceIsGolden15
Summary: “Wow, that’s a, uh, lot of blood,” Hunk said nervously as they headed for the door. Keith knew, he could see the drops spattering the floor as they went, but didn’t answer. He didn’t look up at Shiro or Allura or Pidge as they passed; he couldn’t bear to see the inevitable disappointment in all of their eyes.Keith Kogane, ace pilot, Paladin of the Red Lion, and fuck-up extraordinaire.
Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo 2k19 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1554010
Comments: 32
Kudos: 749
Collections: Bad Things Happen Bingo





	With Threads of Red I Seal Your Fate

**Author's Note:**

> New bingo card! Check it out and request prompts on my tumblr @arwenride.

“Allura? Are you sure this is a good idea?” Keith fidgeted, staring out the Castle’s windscreen at the planet below. From up here it looked fine, nice even with its rolling pastel hills, but after what Allura had just said it seemed much more foreboding. “You know I’m not the best at diplomacy.”

“I’m aware,” answered Allura a bit shortly, not looking up from her screens. “But the others have not yet returned from their missions. Pidge and Shiro are still a varga away, and Lance and Hunk are another half varga further. We need someone to stall for us until they return.”

“Why can’t Coran do it?”

Allura shot him an annoyed look. “Because he’s not a Paladin. The customs of this people are very strict, their rulers are practically deified. They won’t speak with anyone lower than the Paladins or myself, and since I’m up to my markings in planning the meetings for other planets in this system, you’ll just have to manage on your own for a bit.”

Keith fought the urge to scowl. Allura sounded so condescending, like Keith was a toddler who didn’t want to take a nap, but he wasn’t resisting just because he didn’t want to go alone. That was part of it, but he didn’t trust himself with something so important. Ten bucks said he’d screw it up within the first hour. 

“Please just go, Keith. The appointed meeting time is approaching.”

He heaved a sigh. “Fine.”

Allura didn’t look up or say anything more, so he turned and left the bridge, heading for Red’s hangar. 

_It’ll be ok,_ he tried to reassure himself, _all you have to do is be polite and keep them busy until the others get back. You can do that._

Of course, all of the other times he’d tried and failed to “just be polite” were flashing before his eyes, but what was he supposed to do about it? He had no choice. 

Red tried to soothe him in her own way as they flew down to the surface of the planet. She tugged a bit playfully at the controls, coaxed him into doing a loop-de-loop, and all the while sent warmth and confident purrs through their bond. It helped a little, but he still wasn’t sure it would be enough. 

The capital city of this planet was built in the middle of a desert, surrounded by pink dunes. The palace was several stories tall, built out of pink sandstone, and polished so well that the light reflecting off of it was blinding. Keith had to activate the shaders on his visor as they descended just to see where he was going, and when he landed he did so gingerly, wary of the soft surface.

He felt Red settle, her claws sinking into the sand, but before he could get worried she brushed against his mind with a feeling of contentment. 

Right, guardian of fire. She was probably right at home in the heat. 

And boy was it _hot._ He felt it the moment he stepped out onto the planet’s surface, even through his armor. Thankfully he didn’t have to wait long-- a few hundred feet away there was a small group of the local aliens, waiting upon a solid stone platform to receive him. 

The aliens were tall and wide, built of brawny muscle that looked harder than rock. Each boasted three pairs of arms and skin in various shades of blue, and their foreheads were tall to accommodate their three eyes.

“Greetings,” said the foremost alien, who was garbed in a robe of teal cloth and gripped a tall staff in his right hands. The two behind him appeared to be guards, wearing black instead of blue and holding spears instead of staffs. All three of them regarded him with the same guarded expression, however. “Which Lion do you claim?”

That made Keith’s eyebrows rise a bit. He thought it was a pretty obvious answer, given his armor and the Red Lion sitting directly behind him, but he brushed it off. Maybe their species was color blind. Maybe it was just a formality. Allura had said they had a lot of those in the Ruler’s court. 

“Red.”

The leader gave a grunt, his eyes flicking about as though searching. “Where are the other Paladins?”

He put his shoulders back. “The other Paladins and Princess Allura were delayed. They’ll be here soon.”

The frown on the alien’s face deepened, but for now, at least, didn’t argue. He simply said, “Follow me,” and turned. 

Keith did as he was told. The guards closed in behind him, which made uncomfortable tension build in his spine. He didn’t like people walking behind him. Didn’t feel safe. But for the sake of diplomacy he said nothing about it and followed the alien towards the gleaming palace. 

The going was difficult over the soft sand. At least, it was for him. The aliens seemed used to it. By the time they reached the palace’s entrance Keith was sweaty under his armor, and he could already feel the sand sticking in the moving parts, sticking to the fabric of his flight suit. God was this going to be uncomfortable.

The guards following split off at the massive doors, leaving Keith to follow his guide into the building. It was shady and cool within, and with a sigh of relief, Keith finally removed his helmet and shook out his sweaty hair. Without the tinted visor he could see more clearly and quickly took in the details of the building, just in case something went wrong, as they were wont to do.

The walls were built of the same pink stone as the outside, but the floors were polished and golden, the color sand was on Earth. He was being led down a long, wide hallway that terminated in another massive door.

His guide tapped his staff primly against it, and slowly it began to swing open, revealing the room beyond inch by inch. An absolutely huge throne room, empty except for the throne, seated upon a raised dais in the center. What caught Keith’s attention was the back wall, painted in all sorts of bright colors. It took him a moment to realize it was a massive mural. 

He had to crane his neck to get a good look at the whole thing. On the left was a figure of one of the local aliens, head bowed as it knelt. On the right was another in the process of placing a crown on the first’s head, though this one was painted like a galaxy, in a swirl of blues and purples and pinks and greens and some colors he was pretty sure weren’t visible to the human eye. 

In a word, gorgeous.

“Paladin,” said his guide, almost making him jump as he was yanked back into reality. “Please wait here. The Ruler will be with you shortly.”

Right, right, he was here for a reason, not to play art critic. So he nodded, hoping he looked the appropriate degree of serious for the occasion, and stayed where he was as the guide took a smaller exit in the back left corner. 

He managed to stand still for about a minute before hooking his helmet to his belt and crossing his arms. A minute after that he took a glance around the room; the guards who had opened the doors had apparently taken their leave, as he was now alone in the cavernous place. 

At minute three he began to fidget, shifting his weight from foot to foot, and at four began to pace a bit before the throne, only going four or five steps in either direction. 

Time ticked ever onwards. It didn’t take long before he felt the burn of impatience starting underneath his skin; Allura had made such a big deal about one of them being here on time so that they wouldn’t appear rude, but here he was on time and the Ruler was making him wait anyway. Why even schedule for this time if he wasn’t going to be ready?

Still, as irritating as it was, the delay was probably for the best. The longer the Ruler took to prepare themselves for the meeting, the more time the others had to get down here and save Keith from certain social disaster. 

Gradually his pacing radius expanded. The taps of his boots against the floor echoed around him, forming a soothing background noise as he paced back and forth across the room. After who knows how long he reached one of the walls in his pacing circuit, and without thinking turned to follow it. 

As he walked down the length of the wall he held out his left hand, dragging his fingertips lightly over the surface of the stone, not smooth as he’d expected, but instead covered in tiny, smooth bumps, like painted over brick did back home. The texture gave him the same pleasant tingles in his fingertips that he used to get back at the Garrison when he walked the halls, dragging his hands on the wall as he walked between classes.

When he reached the door carved into the wall, the one his guide had gone through, he skipped over it and moved to the next wall. He could see the colors underneath his gloved fingers, but mostly wasn’t thinking about the mural or the situation. His thoughts had begun to wander after half a varga in the room, and now he was wondering to himself how long the celebration banquet after the negotiations would be. Coran had mentioned that these aliens were rather dull and straight laced, so maybe he’d be spared from another party. That would be nice. 

He was halfway down the mural, his tingling fingers running over the galaxy, when the scrape of an opening door sounded from behind him, accompanied a moment later by a series of horrified gasps. 

His head snapped around. There was a group of aliens filing into the room from the doorway, and every single one of them was staring at him with furious eyes. Or, more specifically, staring at where his hand touched the mural. 

Instantly he cringed and yanked his hand away. But the damage had already been done; the aliens crowded in, guards in black hovering at the ready. One of the other aliens rushed forward, and Keith had a moment to recognize them by their staff before the guide was shouting something at him.

“You dare defile the sacred image?”

Keith went cold. _Sacred? Oh, shit._

“I’m sorry,” he said in his most contrite tone, pressing his palms flat to the outsides of his thighs. Allura would probably say it in fancier language, something like ‘My most humble apologies’, but something like that wouldn’t sound right coming from his lips. So he continued, “I didn’t know it was sacred. But nothing’s damaged,” he checked, just to make sure none of the paint had come off on his gloves. They were clean. “I won’t touch it again.”

“You certainly won’t,” snapped someone in a fiery voice, and when the owner moved forward, Keith knew he was absolutely screwed. This alien held a staff like the guide’s, but where the guide’s was made of a simple wood-like substance, this staff was bathed in glittering gold with an array of jewels at the top. On their head was a crown to match.

It was the Ruler, and just like he’d feared, he’d already screwed everything up. 

Fucking _wonderful._

“Before me, Paladin,” they said in a cold voice, jabbing their staff in the direction of the throne. Keith scurried back to his original position immediately, not wanting the angry looking guards to have a reason to manhandle him. And so he stood, shoulders hunched, before a person who sat upon the throne like they were born to it, regal in a different way from Allura.

Allura wore regality like it was a gift, like a ‘great power with great responsibility’ kind of deal. The Ruler wore it like iron, a sword and a shield all in one. 

“I am amazed,” they began in a voice like ice, eyes sharp, “that the Paladins of Voltron would preach peace and unity, come to our doorstep seeking alliance, and yet so utterly disrespect our most treasured customs.”

He winced a bit. This clearly wasn’t something a simple sorry would fix. 

_Goddamnit,_ he thought viciously at himself, _how many people have told you to keep your hands to yourself? Don’t you ever learn?_

“Well?” The harsh word jolted Keith back into his body. “Have you nothing to say?”

Oh, ok, apparently the previous sentence hadn’t been rhetorical. Scrambling for something to say that wouldn’t sound defensive and disrespectful, all he could come up with was another pathetic apology.

“I’m very sorry. I didn’t know. I didn’t mean to disrespect you or your culture.”

The Ruler’s face rippled. He wasn’t sure, but Keith got the impression it was their version of a raised eyebrow for people who didn’t have eyebrows.

“You wish to repent, then?”

“Yes.” He hoped his voice was appropriately eager or whatever they wanted to hear. He never had been good at saying what he meant. 

The Ruler sat back a bit, taking a moment, it would seem, to consider. Tapping one finger against the armrest of the throne, they said, “Normally, the punishment for defiling the First Depiction would be to sever the offending limb.”

Keith’s breath caught in his throat, but before he could panic, they kept talking.

“However, seeing as you are a diplomat sent in allegedly good faith, I would accept a punishment of a mere thirty lashes.”

“Thirty--” _Lashes? As in whipping? Shit shit shit._ Keith couldn’t help talking back. Surely they saw how unfair this was. He hadn’t even known he wasn’t allowed the touch the damn thing. “But-- but I didn’t know!”

Their back straightened again, losing all leniency that had been present a moment ago. 

“Is your ignorance held in higher standing than our laws? Is such favoritism the stance of Voltron?”

“No, but--”

“Will you accept the punishment willingly or will you not?” All three of their eyes narrowed, and Keith could feel the spiders touch of everyone else in the room glaring at him. “We will not ally ourselves with blasphemers.”

Fuck. He had to fix this, before Allura and the others get here. He couldn’t let this alliance fall apart just because he couldn’t get his paws off the walls. He should’ve learned his freaking lesson by now, but noooooooo, Keith Kogane could never resist a chance to make a mess of things. 

With all of these thoughts running through his head, Keith finally surrendered to the inevitable. He was going to have to pay for his mistake, and no amount of whining or whinging about it, to himself or out loud, was going to change it. 

Hanging his head so that they wouldn’t see the mix of irritation and fear on his face, he muttered, “I’ll accept it.”

“Good. You,” the Ruler nodded to one of the guards, “fetch the pillory.”

Murmured conversation broke out amongst the other dignitaries in the room as one of the guards exited, and Keith felt butterflies spawn in his gut.

“Wait, now?” he said, not entirely aware he was speaking. “But the negotiations--”

“You will repent before the negotiations, or there will not be any negotiations,” they snapped at him, thumping their staff on the floor for emphasis. Wary of invoking more wrath Keith fell silent, though internally he was a mess of nerves. 

Maybe it wouldn’t take long. Or maybe the other Paladin’s would take longer than expected, the way they had before that made this entire situation happen, and he could get himself put back together before they arrived. It would hurt, but he could just endure it and move on. They’d never have to know how stupid he’d been or the trouble he’d gotten himself into on a simple diplomacy mission. 

A moment later the side door opened again, and the guard returned hauling something behind him. A rod of solid metal, about as thick around as his torso, and cemented into a solid block of pink stone. At the top a metal ring had been driven into it, probably for shackles. 

Behind it came another alien. This one wore red, and in its lowest right hand held a long brown whip, looped over and over into a tight circle in their grip. 

Keith gulped and wrapped his arms around his torso. Adrenaline was already making him jittery, chills rolling over his skin in waves, and the voices around the room reminding him he was on display only made it worse. 

The pillory was set down between Keith and throne. Once it was in place the guard retreated back to their post, but the one in red remained standing to the side, waiting. 

“Remove your armor.”

Though a bit reluctantly, Keith obeyed the Ruler’s order. First one vambrace, then the next. Shoulder pads, right and left. The chestplate. All placed into the neatest pile he could manage at his feet. Then, with another deep breath to give him the courage, he drew down the zipper at the back of his flight suit, far enough to expose his back. There he stopped, and thankfully he wasn’t commanded to go any further. He didn’t think he could’ve borne the humiliation if they had. 

“Do you require restraints?” was their next question, and Keith shook his head vehemently. No, he didn’t want to be tied. That would make it so much worse. “So be it. Approach the pillory and kneel.” 

He did as he was told. Three steps forward. Knees on the pink stone. He reached up and gripped the metal ring, something to hold him upright and in place, and closed his eyes. 

_Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out._ He rested his forehead against his hands and made an effort to feel the cool touch of the metal on his skin. 

Calm. He could do this with minimal mortification, so long as he stayed calm.

There was a heavy step behind him, and without warning a hand descended upon the bare flesh of his back, making him jolt and grimace to himself. God, he _hated_ being _touched._

“I see this isn’t your first time paying penance,” said a deep voice in his ear, which after a moment he realized must belong to the alien with the whip. Feeling his cheeks begin to warm, he buried his face further into his arms. 

“Begin.”

Exactly four seconds later the first lash was drawn across his back. It stung, and he ground his teeth and rocked forward against the rod, but didn’t cry out. He bit his tongue and made sure to keep track, just in case they tried to pull one over on him. 

_Two._

_Three._

_Four._

The fifth lash was the one to break skin. The burn made Keith hiss a breath between his teeth, and all around him he heard voices rising in excitement. The crowd had seen the blood. 

This species definitely wasn’t colorblind. 

_Six._

_Seven._

_Eight._

_Nine._

_Ten._

On lash eleven he finally let out a hoarse shout, and once again the eagerness level in the room grew. The cracks of the whip still bounced about the room above their heads, mocking as they multiplied in the echoes. Now his voice would join them. 

_Twelve._

_Thirteen._

_Fourteen._

_Fifteen._

_Sixteen._

His sweaty hands slipped from the ring and he fell forward onto them. He didn’t get the chance to put them back himself; immediately two guards were before him, one roughly yanking his hands up to the proper position and the other fastening chains around them. Keith let them without a fight, focusing his energy on keeping his breathing as steady as he could.

_Seventeen._

_Eighteen._

_Nineteen._

_Twenty._

He was shaking. He felt cold down to his fingertips, everywhere except where the lashes burned like firebreaks. Static was beginning to dot over his vision, a high pitched keen in his ears threatening to overwhelm the noises in the room, but he fought the sensations back. He couldn’t pass out. He had to keep it together if he wanted any chance of feigning health to the others. 

_Twenty-one._

_Twenty-two._

_Twenty-three._

_Twenty-four._

_Twenty-five._

_Twenty-six._

_Twenty-seven._

“Keith!”

His heart stopped. He knew that voice, that was Shiro, but that wasn’t right, they weren’t supposed to get here yet, they weren’t supposed to see him like this, no no no.

“What is the meaning of this?”

_Oh god, Allura’s here too._

Underneath the ringing in his ears he could hear the others’ boots on the floor, coming closer. His cheeks were absolutely inflamed with shame and he ducked his head to hide it, even as the Ruler began to speak over his head.

“The Paladin has committed a crime. We are enacting justice.”

“What kind of crime justifies corporal punishment?” Shiro demanded. He had that familiar protective tone in his voice, the anger that so often lay dormant roaring to life. Normally it made Keith feel safe. Now it just filled him with dread. 

“He has defiled a sacred object-- the Depiction of the coronation of our first Ruler, whose line remains unbroken to this day. We have already softened the terms of repentance in accordance with this system’s diplomatic law.”

If they stopped this, the Ruler might decide not to ally with them. He couldn’t let his stupid mistake affect the war. As much pain as he was in, as much as he wanted it to stop, he couldn’t let Allura and Shiro get in the way.

“‘S ok, Shiro.” His voice was quiet and ragged, but judging by the shocked silence that followed, it was audible. “‘S only… three more.”

“Keith--”

“Very well,” said Allura in a tight tone, cutting Shiro off. He made a sound of protest that was ignored by the Princess. “Do what you must.”

Clenching his teeth, Keith prepared for the next lash. He was doubly determined not to make sound, not with the others there. He couldn’t see them, bound as he was, but still he settled his expression into a determined frown rather than whatever awful face he’d been making before. 

“Continue.” It was only one word, but still the Ruler managed to sound unbearably smug. At least he only had a moment to think about it. 

The twenty-eighth lash seemed to hurt more than all the others combined. Maybe it was because of the interruption disrupting the pattern. Maybe it was from all the wounds layered on top of each other. Maybe it was because he knew his friends were there watching. Whatever the reason, it was a minor miracle Keith was able to hold in the sound he wanted to make. 

_Twenty-nine._

_Thirty._

Over.

It was finally over.

A few tears fell down his cheeks against his will, in absolute sheer relief. It was over, he’d done his penance, and he’d fixed his mistake. He hadn’t completely screwed everything up again. 

“The Paladin’s penance is completed,” intoned the Ruler, projecting their voice all about the huge room. “We are willing to enter negotiations with Voltron.”

“I’ll take him back,” he heard Shiro say, followed by a few footsteps, but the Ruler spoke again before Shiro reached him. 

“We have already waited several vargas to speak with the leader of Voltron,” they said, sounding displeased. “Would you have us wait longer?”

_For fuck’s sake,_ Keith wanted to scream, _of all the pretentious assholes in the universe--_

“Hunk, Lance,” said Allura, still in that tight voice, and Keith’s heart sank. It wasn’t just Allura and Shiro-- they were all here. They’d all seen. “Please escort Keith back to the Castle and have Coran tend to him.”

“Ten four,” murmured a quiet voice he thought belonged to Hunk. Two pairs of feet approached, and this time they made it all the way to him, flashes of blue and yellow at the corner of his vision confirming their identities. 

Lance stooped beside him and began to gather up the discarded pieces of his armor as one of the guards approached to release the shackles. Keith kept his eyes on the floor, even when his arms were finally allowed to come down, even when Hunk helped him stand and pain rippled out from the cuts. 

“Wow, that’s a, uh, lot of blood,” Hunk said nervously as they headed for the door. Keith knew, he could see the drops spattering the floor as they went, but didn’t answer. He didn’t look up at Shiro or Allura or Pidge as they passed; he couldn’t bear to see the inevitable disappointment in all of their eyes. 

Keith Kogane, ace pilot, Paladin of the Red Lion, and fuck-up extraordinaire. 

* * *

Lance was shaken. No, he was more than shaken. He was downright spooked. 

When they’d landed and gone into the Palace, when they’d heard that Keith had been sent ahead, Lance had been anticipating dealing with a grumpy mullet and a boring session of diplomatic negotiations. 

What they got instead was Keith, shackled and kneeling in a pool of his own blood. And Keith hadn’t fought-- he’d just gone along with it, let them hurt him for the sake of an alliance, and the whole thing absolutely boggled his mind. 

For almost the whole trip home all three of them were silent. Hunk was struggling to hold down his lunch (at least judging by the shade of his complexion) and Keith was hunched in on himself, arms wrapped around his torso and head down. They hadn’t done up his armor yet, afraid of causing unneeded pain, and the scent of drying blood was so strong that Lance felt his own stomach turning. 

He didn’t know what to do. So, in true Lance fashion, he began to talk. 

“Man, we really can’t take you anywhere, can we?” It didn’t occur to him what that would sound like until Keith flinched and Hunk shot him a glare. Floundering a bit, he tried to fix it. “I just meant-- I mean, what’d you do anyway? Draw a mustache on the alien Mona Lisa?”

Keith shook his head glumly. When he didn’t seem inclined to answer further, Lance pushed.

“So what did you do?”

With a sigh, Keith reluctantly answered, “You know that big mural in the throne room? I touched it.”

Lance frowned. “What do you mean, touched it? Like--”

“Just dragged my fingertips, you know.” He gave a shrug, then immediately grimaced at the pain. “Dumb thing to do. Should know better.”

“They… did _that,_ all for touching the wall?” 

He couldn’t fathom it. He’d seen the wounds when they walked into the room, the blood on the floor, the alien standing behind him with the whip. He’d never forget the sharp _crack_ it made as it descended, or how the impact made Keith shake. 

All of that for touching the wrong wall. 

“Man, that…” he shook his head, unsure if Keith had responded to his previous sentence. “That’s so screwed up.”

Keith gave a forlorn sigh and leaned his elbows on his knees. At the moment they were all in the cockpit of the Yellow Lion, being flown back to the Castle by Hunk. The ride would be smoother in the slower Lion, Hunk had reasoned, which meant less pain for Keith. And Keith hadn’t argued the point. 

“I told Allura it was a bad idea,” he mumbled to the floor. “I told her I’d fuck it up.” Then, much more quietly, “I always do.”

“Woah woah woah, what are you saying, mullet? You’re not blaming yourself for all of this, are you?”

Keith opened his mouth just as Hunk brought them into Yellow’s hangar. Pain from a rocky landing cut off his words before they could be spoken, and then Hunk was helping him up and there was no time to talk anymore about it. 

Soon Keith would be in a pod, and he probably wouldn’t want to ever talk about it again. Lance didn’t blame him. 

* * *

It was late when Shiro, Allura, and Pidge finally made it back to the Castle. They were all dog-tired and nursing headaches, but Shiro was stuck brooding on another problem entirely. He couldn’t speak for the girls, but he knew the first place he went when they got back was going to be the infirmary. 

He rushed there with quick steps from his hangar, not quite running, but only barely. For hours the images had been stewing in the back of his mind-- Keith, and all of that blood, and a man with a whip. His anger had been on a slow boil all day, and now it was crawling back up his throat, fighting to be heard.

As luck would have it, he walked into the infirmary at the same time Coran seemed to be prepping to open the pod. So he joined Hunk and Lance, who gave him a pair of stressed, tired smiles.

“Hey guys,” he said in a low tone, “How are you holding up?”

Hunk answered positively. Lance, however, looked more troubled, and after a few seconds of anxious silence, he felt Shiro’s gaze on him and cracked.

“I think you should talk to him when he comes out. Earlier, when we were flying back, he kept saying all of this stuff and I think he’s blaming himself for what happened.”

Shiro sighed. Sadly, he couldn’t say he was surprised. Keith had always been quick to put himself down, and the year he’d spent alone clearly hadn’t improved it. 

“Alright, I’ll talk to him about it. Thanks Lance.”

“Did we get the alliance?” asked Hunk. Shiro couldn’t resist the dramatic groan that rose out of him.

“Yes, but it was a pain, and I doubt they’re going to be all that helpful, anyway. But what are you gonna do?” The last bit, _it’s a war,_ went unspoken.

“Alright lads,” Coran chirped from across the room, “Keith’s just about healed. Where are Allura and Number Five?”

“Pidge is synching the intelligence from the planet’s spy network into our database. Allura said she’d be here in a few minutes, though.”

Coran nodded. Before anything else could be said the pod began to beep, and they closed around it in a loose ring. Keith disliked being crowded when coming out of cryosleep, so they all stood back a few steps farther than they would with anyone else. 

The door hissed as it opened. Cold mist unfolded across the floor and with it came Keith on jellied legs, blinking owlishly in the light of the infirmary. Shiro’s instinct was to hug him, but he held himself back.

“Hey Keith. How’re you feeling?”

Keith gave an experimental roll of his shoulders. For a moment Shiro saw a flash of the bloody mess his back had been in the throne room, then it was gone, leaving him choking on anger in its wake. 

“Good,” is what Keith answered, and he reached up to rub one of his eyes. “Thanks Coran.”

“No problem, Number Four.”

Shiro braced himself, preparing to dive into the murky waters of serious conversations with Keith, but before he could broach the subject the infirmary door opened again, and a second later Allura was pushing her way into the circle.

She looked exhausted with the heavy bags under her eyes and the dust coating her dress. Keith recoiled a bit at her presence, a regretful look growing on his face.

“Princess, I’m--”

She didn’t stop long enough for him to speak. Just went right up to him and threw her arms around his neck in a tight embrace. Keith was shocked, leaving his hands hovering in the air rather than touching her, and Shiro heard Lance and Hunk chuckle in the background. 

“I’m sorry,” Allura murmured to him, barely loudly enough for Shiro to hear. “I shouldn’t have sent you down there alone. This shouldn’t have happened to you.”

Keith bit his lip, clearly uncomfortable, and Shiro predicted his next words before he said them.

“It’s alright, Princess. It was my--”

“It wasn’t your fault.” Shiro said it firmly, looking Keith in the eye. “You hear me? Don’t blame yourself.”

For a moment Keith gave him a familiar look, one he had seen so many times in the early days of the Garrison. The look of a scared boy who had grown up blamed for everything and anything and didn’t know how not to be guilty. Then it softened, and he smiled, and he actually put a hand on Allura’s shoulder. A little awkward still, but endearingly so. 

The infirmary door slid open again, and Pidge’s loud voice let out a proclamation. 

“I am going to _destroy those motherfuckers.”_


End file.
